Starlight and Faraway Places
by war.x.and.x.wonder
Summary: Two unlikely allies, caught in a conspiracy beyond themselves, fight for the truth and their own survival in the Outer Rim. Cara Solvan is an agent of Republic Intelligence on a secret mission, while Wes Goran is a Coruscanti university student just trying to return home. Bound by circumstance, the duo's adventures lead to personal revelations of character and personality.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER I: The Paper Trail**

 **749 BBY**

 **NAR SHADDAA**

* * *

Nar Shaddaa was a cesspool. It had been a cesspool for countless millennia, perhaps even since its inception back in the ancient days of the Evocii slaves. By its appearance, it would certainly continue to be a cesspool until the very end of time. It was squalid and crime-ridden, and the pollution made it insufferably humid at any time of day. Over ninety million people called the smugglers' moon their home, packed into its all-encompassing metropolis.

Which meant that no one would notice if one miserable, wretched Duros went missing.

Cara Solvan waited behind the merchant's stall while her blue-skinned target came into view. His name was Lerrun, and he was a part-time courier for the Vasch Syndicate. He was also known as an assassin (or murderer, depending on who you asked) and a brutal enforcer of the Syndicate's will on Dela III. He'd made enough of a name for himself in Centrality space that his arrival on Nar Shaddaa six months prior was monitored and recorded by Republic Intelligence. As he made his way into the marketplace, Cara stepped out into the crowd to follow him. Lerrun arrived at a stall serving Durosian cuisine, just as he had every afternoon for the past six months.

The Republic Intelligence Service had caught wind of Vasch activity deep in the Elrood sector of the Outer Rim. Though it was impossible to tell exactly what the Syndicate was doing in the region, RIS had set up surveillance in the hopes that it would yield a breakthrough in their investigation of Vasch. Despite their best efforts, the shadowy Outer Rim criminal organization had been steadily gaining power and influence over the past decade.

A year after beginning surveillance in the Elrood sector, RIS detected a flurry of excited communications over the long-range transmitter. The Syndicate had found something. Something important enough to warrant a hand-delivered report to the highest ranks of the organization on Taris.

The report was tracked out of Elrood to the Naboo system, where an RIS team had managed to plant a tracker on the courier's ship. Once it was determined that the courier was headed for Nar Shaddaa (some of the analysts on Coruscant had made a rather impassioned case that the courier was instead seeking Nal Hutta's Jiguuna Spaceport, but they were overruled), an operative was dispatched to intercept the report.

Cara Solvan was a rising star in the RIS Tactical Directorate. Over her two years in Republic Intelligence, the young half-Echani had compiled an impressive operational history, rising to a L-4 clearance (to compare, most L-4s were nearly a decade older than herself). Considered by some to be the protégé of Operational Director Niyyan, she'd arrived on Nar Shaddaa a day previously.

It had been a simple matter to track down the courier after his arrival. Reviewing the holocron footage from the loading bay, Cara surmised that he'd transferred the report to Lerrun shortly after landing. After a few discreet questions to a few people who owed the Republic a favor or two, she learned that Lerrun frequented this particular stall at this particular marketplace.

Lerrun picked up his food and made his way out of the marketplace, hunched over his meal. Cara followed at a distance, but close enough that she could keep the Duros in sight. Soon enough, the filthy squares of the market district turned into the filthy halls of the slums. Cara tapped her jacket, where she'd hidden a Nabooian holdout blaster.

The halls of his residential block (a rather clean word for a decidedly unclean structure) were empty at this time of day, so Cara switched her tactics. Relying on instincts honed through rigorous training and two years of field experience, she stalked silently towards her target, staying in the shadows or otherwise out of sight.

The Duros stopped at the end of the corridor and put his hand to the door sensor. It was an old Corellian model, the likes of which had been phased out in the Core Worlds nearly a century prior. He'd purchased it virtually free of charge from a salvager once he'd arrived on the smugglers' moon. After a muffled "beep" and a flash of what once may have been a brilliant green, the door swung open and Lerrun stepped inside. Or he would have, had he not been cut off by a flying intelligence agent.

As soon as the door opened, Cara leapt from cover and leapt at the Duros, her right leg outstretched in a flying kick. The concentrated force of her lithe body broke a bone in Lerrun's chest, and he stumbled back in pain. Taking advantage of her opponent's momentary incapacitation, Cara turned and slammed the door shut, reaching for her blaster as she returned her focus to the Duros.

He was quick to recover, and was on her before she could bring her blaster around. The little Nabooian pistol went skittering across the floor as its owner grappled with her blue-skinned adversary.

He was stronger that her, she knew. It became apparent after a brief exchange of blows that he could probably best her in a prolonged encounter. She retreated slowly, looking for an opening in the Duros' attack. Lerrun threw a wide hook with his right fist, catching her on the side of the head.

 _'This needs to end fast'_ , she thought, stumbling back with spots dancing around the edges of her vision.

When the Duros lunged forward to press the attack, Cara stepped towards him, rather that away. It was a high-risk gamble: by coming closer, she gave herself a chance to take down her opponent. The catch was that she'd have to avoid his blows until she was close enough to launch an attack of her own.

Cara ducked low as she slipped under the Duros' guard. Twisting her body to avoid Lerrun's right hook, she began to wheel her own arm back to attack his face. If she could disorient him with a solid strike to the head (especially the eyes, or nose), then she could press her advantage and knock out her opponent. The move would have worked if she didn't slip.

It was nearly impossible to tell what exactly it was that she slipped on, and Cara didn't really want to know. It was smelled terribly, and looked a sick shade of sallow green. There were chunks of darker green strewn throughout. And it was slippery. Very slippery.

Cara's right foot gave out under her as it slid across the plasteel floor. Her anticipated punch fell well short of its target, who responded with a vicious uppercut. Dazed, Cara could hardly regain her bearings before the Duros slammed into her, sending her flying over a durasteel table.

She landed with a dull thud, blinking away the haze of the impact. Lerrun stalked across the room, stepping onto the table. Cara scrambled to a sitting position, scanning the room for a means of escape. What she found almost made her laugh.

"Who are you, and who sent you?" demanded Lerrun, glaring down at her from atop the table. His red eyes shone with fury.

Rather than responding, Cara pulled her blaster out from under the table, where it had landed, and shot the Duros in both kneecaps.

Howling, Lerrun dropped to the floor, forcing Cara to scramble out of the path of his falling form. Smoke rose from the charred holes in his pants, and the stench of burning flesh permeated the room. Cara leapt to her feet to stand over the Duros, who was writhing about the floor in agony.

"My turn to ask the questions," she said, bringing her blaster up to the center of his forehead. "Where's the report?"

"Report?" lied the Duros through gritted teeth, "What report?"

Cara shot him in the leg, slightly higher up. The crimson blaster bolt burned into his thigh, eliciting another anguished shout from Lerrun. She brought the blaster back to his forehead, the barrel red-hot.

" _The_ report," she repeated, her voice calm.

"Oh, _that_ report," replied the heavily breathing Duros, "I don't have it. No idea where it is."

The tip of the blaster pressed into his leg, exactly where he'd been shot not ten seconds prior. Cara looked at him pointedly, slightly pressuring the trigger.

"It's in the desk drawer!" shouted Lerrun, "I'm supposed to hand it off tomorrow."

It was, in fact, in his desk; Cara found the datapad in the third drawer down. She turned on her personal communicator and began a call to RIS headquarters on Coruscant. A man with pale blonde hair answered on the other end, a miniature hologram of him appearing in Lerrun's apartment.

"Agent Solvan, report," the man ordered in a faded Corellian accent. His name was Renil Voranna, and he'd been assigned to the case not six hours prior.

"I've intercepted the report and subdued the courier," replied Cara. "I'll secure the area for the Nar Shaddaa team to extract us."

"Negative, Agent," responded the officer, "The local field office is off-site on another operation. You'll need to secure your own extraction."

"And what of the courier, sir?"

"Terminate him."

The officer ended the communication, and Cara walked back towards Lerrun. He'd overheard the exchange, and raised his hands.

"Mercy, Agent Solvan!" he pleaded. Cara scoffed, her eyes cold.

"Mercy for you, Lerrun? The Butcher of Kabaira? The Iron Fist of Dela III? I don't think so."

A single shot from the blaster ended Lerrun, and Cara stepped out of his apartment to find her way back to Coruscant.

* * *

 _And so concludes the first chapter of what I hope to be many._

 _Author's Notes:_

 _1\. Yes, I'm a terrible writer. Boring, unimaginative, and far too formal. Trust me, I know._

 _2\. I know this isn't really a time period that's often explored (honestly, I'm not sure whether it's ever been covered), but I chose it to allow more creative freedom in creating a unique standalone universe. Hopefully, you'll be able to consider this an enitity on its own, existing in the same continuum as other Star Wars works (A New Hope, Knights of the Old Republic, etc.)._

 _3\. While acknowledging that I'm still an awful writer, I really, really hope that you leave a review, favorite, or any other feedback._

 _Grazie,_

 _War and Wonder_


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER II: Predator**

 **6 GALACTIC STANDARD HOURS LATER**

 **PASSENGER SHIP VALORUM**

* * *

"If I never set foot in this system again, it'll be too early," groaned Wes Goran, laying back onto his headrest. "Why did we ever come here in the first place?"

"To excavate ancient Huttese cultural artifacts," Davin Molik answered matter-of-factly. "You chose this trip, remember?"

Laughing, the young university student countered, "No, I just came along. You chose this class, and only because Aewi's in it."

"And you don't find her the least bit attractive?" replied Davin, grinning.

"Not like you do," joked Wes. Davin's infatuation with their Twi'lek classmate was often a source of banter between the two friends. "Seriously, though. We had four weeks until classes start, and I just spent two of them digging up old statues of slugs on Nal Hutta with a psychotic professor."

"But think of what happened next," remarked Davin, "Our night on Nar Shaddaa was fun, wasn't it? And besides, in the end, it paid off."

"Oh?"

"You didn't see me leave Club Echae with Aewi?" asked Davin with a sly smile.

Wes laughed, amusement crossing his face. "You did not."

"Really? I would've thought we were quite the scene, what with her all over m-"

A loud thump interrupted Davin, jolting both students out of their seats. They looked down at the source of the noise, but nothing further was coming. Davin shrugged, and resumed his tale of conquest. In great detail.

* * *

The Valorum was mid-tier spaceliner, somewhat small by the standards of the day. Carrying a crew of twelve, she could comfortably accommodate fifty-four passengers (though she'd been stretched to nearly triple that capacity when participating in the evacuation of Jagga II). Launched nearly half a century ago, she was named not for the legendary Supreme Chancellor Tarsus Valorum, but rather his second cousin Tytis, the former Minister of Interior Finance. A veteran member of the Coruscant Star Line's Outer Rim Flotilla, she was captained by an aging Nautolan by the name of Liyat Chek. Chek was a twenty-year veteran of Republic Navy, where she'd garnered a reputation as cool under pressure. Old yet reliable, the ship was a perfect match for her captain, who had not a single complaint about her vessel. Except that, perhaps, it could use more cargo space.

* * *

Cara cursed under her breath once she was sure nobody was investigating the noise. She'd banged her head against the support beam in the cramped cargo hold of the Valorum.

After retrieving the report and eliminating Verrun, Cara had taken a speeder taxi to the docks. Although she had no travelling documents, as the original plan had called for an exfiltration with the local RIS outpost, she'd managed to find transport on a passenger ship bound for Coruscant. Or rather, underneath said passenger ship.

Cara grunted as she pulled herself into a sitting position. Hidden away behind a pair of crates, on the off chance that a crewman should descend into the cargo bay, she tapped the datapad stashed inside fo her jacket. It was encrypted, far beyond her capability to slice in the field, but it could be broken with the right equipment back on Coruscant.

Satisfied that her objective was just as she'd left it, Cara lay her head back on the crate and let out a weary sigh. Between the planning and execution of her operation, she'd hardly slept in the past couple of days. Exhausted, the young agent closed her eyes and drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Wes narrowed his eyes, glaring across the table at a grinning Davin Molik. The other student merely laughed and reached out for his victory prize, a sizable stack of credit chits. They were seated at an old-fashioned Pazaak table in the ship's aft lounge, in which were gathered the rest of their fellow archaeologists (this, however, only amounted to three other students; "Investigations of Huttese Artefacts and Culture" was not a popular class, despite the best efforts of Professor Smorbu Natjek, an especially massive and unusually jovial Hutt. Natjek had, for practical reasons, elected to remain on Coruscant during the expeditions. He was replaced by Ervic Jzacuk, a Coruscanti professor with a reputation for mental instability).

"I win," Davin smiled, carefully stacking his recently-bolstered stack of chits. Glancing at his own (and considerably larger) stack of chits, Wes smirked jokingly.

"It's about time you did," responded Wes, "I was starting to get worried. You know, since robbery is illegal under Republic law and all."

Davin made a mock-serious face. "Shut up, Goran."

"He's right, Davin," Aewi Tallona piped up from the sofa, where she lay reading a holo-novel. "You should probably quit while you're behind."

"I thought it was 'quit while you're ahead'," Davin replied. Aewi giggled.

"Yes, but given what we've seen of your Pazaak abilities, perhaps we should make an exception," she answered, "End while you're on a high note-"

She paused to observe the disparity between the two friends' credit chits.

"-or what might pass as a high note, for you."

"Oh come on, Aewi," started Davin, "I'm sure tha-"

For the second time on the same journey, Davin's words were cut off by a loud thud, though this one was far louder than the one before. As the students looked around in confusion, another percussive blast, this one much louder, jolted all of them out of their seats. The ship lurched as it exited hyperspace.

Aewi was the first to speak, her voice tinged with fear.

"Umm… what just happened?"

From the viewport where he'd been standing, a young Alderaanian turned to the rest of the group, his face pale with fear.

"I think someone should..." he began, backing unsteadily into a table, "Outside the…"

He trailed off, pointing vaguely at the vacated viewport. Wes stepped in the spot he'd been standing looking out into the stars.

On the other side of the window lay a ship, predatory in its angular appearance. Two shuttles were flying alongside it, lightly trailing plasma exhaust in their wake.

* * *

The blast woke Cara from her light sleep, sending her bolting upright. Which, in the cramped hold of the Valorum, simply led to a painful collision with the ceiling. She'd heard the unmistakable sound of an explosion, a sound she'd become all too familiar with over the past two years. Clutching her head, Cara stumbled out from her makeshift hideaway, trying to assess her new situation. A nearly impossible task, given her isolation underneath the main level of the ship. She reached down, squeezing the grip of her holdout blaster just ever so tighter.

* * *

"Report!" called Captain Chek, her years of naval experience taking over. Never one to panic in a crisis, her calm demeanor affected the rest of the bridge crew. The nav officer, a sandy-haired Telosian, spoke up from his scanner console.

"We're under fire from an unidentified ship," he began, "Scanners show two shuttles inbound for the portside airlocks."

It was a tactic Chek had seen plenty of times in the Republic Navy, hunting pirates in the Mid Rim. The outlaws would be lying in wait along the hyperlanes, pulling their targets out of hyperspace and disabling their shields with an ion blast.

"Launch the distress beacon," the captain commanded, "And order the crew to evacuate the ship."

"Aye, sir."


End file.
